


To The Man I Knew Before

by BitterRose



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, DNF, Dream In Prison, Dream Smp, Dream got boxed like a fish, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Prison, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterRose/pseuds/BitterRose
Summary: “You can’t come back here again.” A bitter tone rang out through the harsh, still air.“But why? Why can’t I?” Desperation was bubbling in his words, eyes broken and glassy as he looked down at the man slumped against the wall on the hard blackstone floor.“What I say is final, George.”The monotone voice rang in George’s ears as he stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, rubbing his red rimmed eyes with the back of his hand.“You can’t- you can’t,” his voice trembled, bringing it in closer to a whisper, “you can’t just shut me out like this.”George visits Dream for the last time and has to face the heartbreaking reality.*bonus paragraph in the end notes*
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	To The Man I Knew Before

**Author's Note:**

> First time submitting a fanfic to ao3, based off of the events of the Dream SMP prison arc.  
> I haven't practiced my creative writing for quite a while and I've never written a fan fic before so I hope this isn't too shabby.

“You can’t come back here again.” A bitter tone rang out through the harsh, still air.

“But why? Why can’t I?” Desperation was bubbling in his words, eyes broken and glassy as he looked down at the man slumped against the wall on the hard blackstone floor.

“What I say is final, George.”

The monotone voice rang in George’s ears as he stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, rubbing his red rimmed eyes with the back of his hand.

“You can’t- you can’t,” his voice trembled, bringing it in closer to a whisper, “you can’t just shut me out like this.”

The man took a deep sigh, refusing to meet George’s eyes, “I’m not arguing this with you.”

“Well you can’t stop me!” Irritation rose, his words bouncing off the bare walls as he snapped back at the man.

He finally looked up, untrimmed, blonde hair falling loosely over his forehead, his features as numb as his words as he met George’s gaze, eyes dull and unreadable.

“I know,” he said eventually, “but I’m doing this for you.”

George pressed his palm harshly into the ridge of his nose, trying to suppress the mild headache that was forming, “what do you mean, Dream?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said flatly.

“Don’t- don’t do this with me right now. Just tell me already.” he sighed, fingers grasping at the short tufts of his earthy hair, dirty and unkempt. 

“It doesn’t take a genius George,” he paused, looking at the boy before him, hands gripping the rim of his shirt as he tried to stop the shaking. Dream sighed, his voice softening at the sight as he restated his comment, “if they figure out the one thing I still care about, they’ll stop at nothing to destroy it.”

“The one thing?” George repeated quietly, “what- what about Sapnap? What about everything we’ve built? Everything we’ve done!” His voice dripped with anger, the taste of bitter bile rising in his mouth.

Dream lowered his head once more, eyes darting to floor as shame began seeping in, “I fucked up, George. I fucked up.” 

Silence wrapped around them, the humming of lava that encased the walls concealing stifled tears and suppressed breaths. George lowered himself to the stone tiles, his head light and fuzzy. His hands scraped against the chilled floor, watching as the shadows of flames sparked around them, the docile glow shedding light into the room.

“I fucked up,” Dream said again, hushed tones still filtering his words. “I pushed Sapnap away.” Defeat coiled around him like thorned wire as he struggled to speak, “he doesn’t care about me anymore.” 

“No, no, that’s not true.” George reassured him.

Dream’s voice became grainy and rough, the piercing reality coursing through him, “he’s the one who helped Sam put me in here in the first place.”

George’s breath hitched, the sparks from the lava spitting out and hissing at the floor's cold touch. _No, no, it’s not true. They were… they were friends, all of them. It’s always been them, the three of them, ever since the beginning._ He exhaled another deep sigh. He knew Sapnap had distanced himself lately, but he still thought- he still thought they’d band together, just like every other time. 

“Is he- is he okay?” George knew his and Sapnap’s friendship had been strained and distant as of late. What he hadn't realised was the toll this had all taken on him. George buried his face into his hands. _He just thought Sapnap needed time- he just needed time and then- and then it would all go back to normal- it would go back to the way it used to be._

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how he thought things would be._

“I don’t know.” The room felt void when Dream spoke, his previous vibrant energy now washed grey and bleak, his tanned skin faded and his eyes left desolate. “He won’t speak to me.”

George shifted uncomfortably, his eyes wandering to the only item that decorated the wall - a worn out brass clock, light catching the dull metal as the hand wordlessly reminded him of the minutes that narrowed in.

He finally spoke up again, “Why’d you do it?”

Dream merely scoffed in response, his head hitting the wall as he raised his eyes to look at George once more. The soft glow of the lava behind them echoed off of Dream and reflected in his eyes, shrouding them in a deep pit of umber. 

“It doesn’t matter, George.”

George looked at him, his eyes brimming as a hint of broken tones simmered in the other man’s voice.

“It matters to me,” he replied quietly, his words softening to a murmur.

“Well it shouldn’t.” he said coldly, resuming with his indistinct manner. 

“But it does!” George retorted. He felt angry at Dream’s apathy, his rigidness concealing any evidence of the man he knew before.

“Why?”

“Because- because,” he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand again, “I want to know if it was worth it!” His chest felt heavy, grasping for the threads that refused to unfurl.

At that moment, Dream reached out, taking George’s hands away from his face, brushing a callous thumb over the smooth skin. “Don’t try and justify my actions, George.”

Tears slipped from George’s dark, fervent eyes, cascading down his cheeks and pooling at his chin as they fell onto the dull blue material of his shirt, staining it with small darkened blotches. “But you must of had a good reason!” He protested.

Dream shuffled closer, their knees brushing as they sat in close proximity, “it doesn’t matter,” he whispered between clenched teeth into the tight space between them.

“Fuck you.” George laughed bitterly, his features stained red at the steady flow of tears. His voice wavered, bringing Dream’s hands up to press against his forehead as he sobbed sorely, his whole body trembling. “Fuck you for doing this to me.”

Dream wrapped his arms around George’s small frame, pulling him in and pressing his lips against his head, “I’m sorry,” he breathed out shakily. He pulled back, cupping George’s damp face in his hands. They felt warm and comforting, his fingers finally relaxing around the curves of George’s jaw as he lifted his face up just enough so he could see his eyes. Dream gazed down at him, his dry stare tinged with sorrow and sympathy. 

George looked up at him, eyelashes clumping together with the glistening tears that shrouded him. His eyes settled on the man, tracing over the light freckles and soft dark blonde hair. Dream had once looked ethereal, carved out from distant galaxies with stardust in his trails. He had been untouchable, godly, an unmatched power radiating off of him that pulled George in close. He had doted on him, spent countless evenings tracing over Dream’s alluring features, thumbs brushing over soft lips, fingers laying marks on his infallible, tanned skin. In the light of the lava, he almost looked golden again, but he could see now that only a silhouette of the man he loved remained.

George reached up, laying his fingers on top of the hands that held him, leaning into the warmth. He wanted to hold on to the fragments that remained, encase them in the palm of his hands, wrap his fingers around the decaying shards and hold every last piece of him close to his heart.

Dream leaned in, cracked lips brushing against George’s fair skin as he placed a final kiss to his forehead, “I’m sorry.”

Their heads pressed together, holding each other close for the last time.

“I don’t want you to miss me, George.”

“I can’t promise that.” He gritted, eyes red and sore.

“George. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He buried his hands into his hair, weaving the darkening gold strands between his finger tips, “what am I going to do without you?”

“You’re going to do what you’ve always done.” His voice hushed, just barely audible as his warm breath brushed over George’s skin, “live for me George, I need you to live for me.”

George shook his head, “stop it, stop it.” His grip tightened on Dream’s hair, forcing him to take a sharp inhale between his teeth.

“George-”

George’s grip loosened, letting go and sliding his arms over the man's shoulders, throwing his head down, crying into the crook of his neck.

“Stop it.” He sobbed, muffled by the green fabric of Dream’s jumper. 

Dream lifted George’s head up, thumb wiping away stray tears.

“Goddammit, George.” Dream held his lip between his teeth, biting down and trying to suppress his own miserable whimpers. “I think you need to leave now.”

“No!” His grip around Dream’s jumper tightened, balling up the material tightly as he thrust his head into his chest.

Dream’s hands settled on his back, running up and down as he tried to soothe him. “George, you need to go. Please, for me.”

George tried to calm his laboured breaths, nodding into his chest and slowly uncurling his fingers from around the worn material. His hands pressed against Dream’s shoulders as he stood up, feet scraping the tiles as he began walking away. Suddenly a hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging him around to look at the man.

“Wait, hang on.” Dream said, pulling the hoodie over his head and pressing the material into George’s hand.

George stared at him wordlessly, eyes fixated on Dream as he gave him a feeble smile.

“Guard!” He called out, “guard, he’s ready.”

George turned back round, passing over the threshold, bars forged in netherite rising up as the sound of heavy machinery worked tirelessly to separate them. The continuous stream of lava cut off, dropping from the ceiling until the chamber where Sam stood opposite the marooned cell came into view. George pressed a forceful hand to the wall, clutching at the material in his grasp, he looked back through the bars at the man who remained sunk down on the floor, shadows dancing over his face.

“Goodbye.” Dream said with lidded eyes.

“Bye.” he croaked back.

His hand slid off the wall as the lava fell below the floor's level, a walkway extending towards him ominously. He refused to look back. He wouldn’t do it. He walked across the platform, stepping off as the blocks contracted into the floor. He stood his back against the lava as it fell down behind him, confining Dream once more. He slid his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out and wiping away the remaining wet streaks across his cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” Sam turned towards George.

“Yeah.” He replied, his voice hoarse.

His feet felt heavy as his footsteps echoed on the blackstone, escorted by Sam as he walked besides him in silence through the prison for a final time. The walls hummed with the mechanics that wove its way throughout the foreboding building, floors rising and falling, heavy duty doors opening and closing as they passed each checkpoint. Each lever pulled, encasing Dream with another layer of submission, tearing them further and further away from each other. 

He tried to level his breathing, not daring to look back at the unrelenting walls that severed them, fearful that his lungs would splutter with grief. 

Sam was disturbingly quiet, his stern gaze fixated ahead of him, a sword illuminated by a gentle purple glow clutched heavily in his hand, highlighting the path with a rich plum colour as they walked.

The last door loomed menacingly above them. George ran a hand over the sharp curves of the iron, stepping back as the sound of pistons retracting the heavy blocks until they merged into the walls. He passed through the doorway, looking up at the ceiling towering almost 30ft above him. He stopped to wait on the other side as Sam swiped his key card and punched the code in. He turned to watch as the pistons pushed the blocks back into place in a spiraling motion. As he stood there, he felt insignificant, shrunken against the sheer size and magnitude of the vault as the centre block filled the last gap in the door. He exhaled deeply through his nose, shoulders sinking heavily as the grinding metal came to a halt.

A dark and powerless feeling settled inside of him.

Sam unlocked the locker room, waiting as George pushed his card into the machine and gathered what little items he came in with. He thread his leather belt through the loops of his jeans, slipping on the hoodie and inhaling it’s aroma before setting the scuffed, white glasses atop his head.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Sam said somberly as George edged towards the portal.

The purple glow highlighted his features as he turned to face Sam, the glowing dust hovering around the swirling mirage landing on his bare arms and settling in his hair. George pushed his glasses down, covering up the reddened blotches around his eyes, “I’m not coming back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I also wrote a short alternative ending which I'll put here just because it's an absolute shitpost:
> 
> George reached into his pocket, the outline of a forbidden artifact that evaded Sam’s ruthless inspections creasing his jeans. He pressed the object into Dream’s hand, curling his fingers around the item that crinkled at his touch. George looked at him with hopeful eyes, glassy with desperation; the last resort. The man looked down at the item in his palm, sheathed in the brown plastic that was wrapped around it, a singular word written in blue staring up at him.  
> George finally gathered the words, allowing them to fall from his tongue as he choked back tears, “you’re not you when you’re hungry.”
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> All notes are appreciated to help improve my writing :)


End file.
